


Day of Grief

by mrs_squirrel_chester



Category: Avengers, Thor - Fandom
Genre: Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Grief, Loki Angst, Loki Feels
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-05
Updated: 2015-12-05
Packaged: 2018-05-05 00:29:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 725
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5354051
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mrs_squirrel_chester/pseuds/mrs_squirrel_chester
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Reader Request - Imagine being Loki's therapist.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Day of Grief

_Hostile. Abrasive. Dismissive. Confident. Egotistical. Power hungry._

These were the words you had used to describe Loki Laufeyson.

You had been meeting with him for the last several weeks. Although, monitoring would be a better word. He barely looked at you, let alone acknowledged you when he was presented with a question or fact about yourself. Truth be told, the man frightened you a little. You had seen the result of his thirst for power. All the people that died, the cities that lie in ruin; all because he wanted what he couldn’t have. 

_Angry. Disbelieving. Hateful._

Leather-bound notebook clutched in your hand, you pelted down the hall, barely flashing your ID badge to the guards as you pushed past. His screams could be heard throughout the entirety of the ship, and it drove chills down your spine.

His cell was destroyed. Everything that decorated the room was broken into pieces, littering the floor.

“Loki?” The book fell from your hands when you spotted him.

He sat in the corner and screamed, hot tears flowing down his red spotted cheeks.

You had no idea what to say to him. The only woman he had ever called mother was dead, seemingly as a result of his acts of treason. Watching him as you approached his cell, you noticed the bottom of his feet. Blood was almost pouring from various cuts. Reacting on instinct, you ran back the way you had come, rushing into the infirmary.

You were almost out of breath by the time you came back, med kit in hand. “I need access to a prisoner.”

There was only one prisoner being guarded. “I’m sorry, ma’am.”

“He is injured. I need access.”

The taller guard clenched his jaw as he pushed a button on his earpiece. “Y/N is requesting access to prisoner number 45-897 for medical assistance.” He nodded after a moment, holding the door for you. “You are not to be left alone with him.”

You didn’t care about that right now. The mental and physical well-being of your patient was the most important thing right now.

Loki wasn’t screaming when you entered his cell. He watched you with dead eyes as you slowly approached him.

“Loki, you’re bleeding.” You kept your voice calm and low, almost as if he were a wounded animal.

The once seemingly invincible god sounded broken. “Go away, mortal.”

“I’m sorry, but I can’t do that. Please let me tend to your injuries.”

He ground his jaw as he stared at the floor, hands balled into fists so tight his knuckles were white. “Perhaps you have not heard about my healing ability?”

“So heal.”

Stormy, blue eyes flashed. “Be quick about it.”

After removing the plastic gloves, you snapped the kit closed, but neither one of you moved from the floor. You mirrored how he sat, straight backed, legs crossed Indian style, your knee resting against his thigh.

“Why are you still here?”

His voice caught you off guard. “You haven’t asked me to leave.”

The silence between you stretched, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. After one of the guards holstered his weapon, you cleared your throat. “I am sorry for your loss.”

“Frigga is not…   _was_ not my mother.”

“Loki. She was as much your mother as Odin is your father and Thor is your brother.”

He ground his teeth. “They are not what you claim.”

“Why? Because they are not your blood? You don’t have to be blood to be family.”

“Do not talk of what you do not know.”

“I’m adopted, Loki. The man and woman that raised me are not my birth parents.”

Finally, after three weeks, Loki Laufeyson looked you in the eye. “That does not make us equal.”

“I’m just saying that because she didn’t carry you in her body or give birth to you doesn’t mean she’s not your mother.”

_Grieving. Distraught._

He opened his mouth, but his chin started to quake. Before you could see his eyes fill with tears, he dropped his head. “Leave me.”

“No.”

“Leave. Me.” He tried so hard to sound authoritative.

You scooted closer to him and grabbed his fist. “No.”

“Please.” His hand loosened in yours as his shoulders dropped.

Your arms were around him faster than you could even think about what you were doing. Loki, the god of mischief, wept into your hair.


End file.
